Building A Carnal Empire In The Fantasy World-Chapter 34: Against The Run Of Play I

Madam Vex’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as she faced Mills and Hayes. Blood ran down her arms from multiple cuts. Her elegant dress was torn and muddy, more rag than garment now. But her grip on the enchanted dagger never wavered.

"You talk too much," she told Mills, then moved.

She didn’t attack either soldier directly. Instead, she dove toward the churning remnants of the lake, rolling across the muddy shore. Both men turned to follow her movement, their swords tracking her path.

Which was exactly what she wanted.

As they pivoted, their formation broke apart. For just a moment, Mills stepped too far forward while Hayes moved too far back. The gap between them widened to three feet instead of one.

Madam Vex came out of her roll in a crouch, then exploded upward with her dagger leading. Not at Mills, who was expecting the attack, but at Hayes, who suddenly found himself isolated and alone.

The wounded soldier tried to bring his sword around to block, but his injuries from the rose bushes had slowed him more than he’d realized. Thorns had cut tendons in his sword arm. Blood loss had sapped his strength.

Madam Vex’s enchanted blade punched through the gap between his helmet and gorget.

The blue steel slid between neck vertebrae with surgical precision. Hayes’ eyes went wide with shock, then blank as the light faded from them.

He toppled backward into the mud, his sword falling from nerveless fingers.

"Hayes!" Mills roared, his composure finally cracking. The young soldier had been steady and professional through the entire fight, but watching his comrade die changed something fundamental in him.

He charged at Madam Vex with wild, uncontrolled swings. His sword work became sloppy, driven by rage instead of training. Each strike was powerful enough to cut her in half, but none of them came close to hitting their target.

Madam Vex gave ground steadily, letting his fury burn itself out. She could see the exact moment when exhaustion began to overtake his anger. His swings became slower, his footwork less certain.

That’s when she struck.

Her dagger flicked out like a serpent’s tongue, opening his wrist to the bone. Mills’ sword fell from suddenly useless fingers. Before he could recover, her return stroke opened his throat.

Blood fountained across the muddy shore as Mills collapsed beside his fallen comrade.

Madam Vex stood over the two bodies, breathing hard. The fight with both soldiers had taken everything she had left. Her legs shook with exhaustion, and black spots danced at the edges of her vision.

But there was no time to rest.

Thirty feet away, Sergeant Cole still had his boot on Velara’s chest and his sword at her throat. The big man had watched his soldiers die with cold professional interest, like a butcher studying different cuts of meat.

"Impressive," he said, his voice carrying easily across the ruined lakeshore. "I can see why Count Varnell kept you around. But you’re done now, aren’t you? That little display used up everything you had left."

He wasn’t wrong. Madam Vex could barely stay on her feet. Every muscle in her body screamed with fatigue. Her enchanted dagger felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

"Let her go," she said anyway. "Your fight is with me."

Cole laughed confidently, a sound like grinding stone. "My fight is with all enemies of the sacred flame. But I’m happy to deal with you one at a time."

He lifted his sword from Velara’s throat, but kept his boot firmly planted on her chest. The auctioneer was in no condition to escape. Blood from her thigh wound had formed a dark pool beneath her, and her face was gray with shock and blood loss.

"Tell you what," Cole said conversationally. "I’ll make you a deal. Kneel down, put your hands behind your head, and I’ll give your friend here a quick death. Clean cut, no suffering. Otherwise..." He pressed down harder with his boot, making Velara gasp in pain. "Otherwise, I take my time with both of you."

Madam Vex looked at her fallen companion, then at the two dead soldiers, then at Cole’s scarred face. She could see no mercy there, no hint of compassion or honor. Just cold calculation and professional cruelty.

"Counter-offer," she said, raising her dagger despite the way her arm trembled with exhaustion. "Go to hell."

Cole shrugged. "Had to ask. The Church likes to say we gave you a chance to repent."

He stepped off Velara’s chest and began walking toward Madam Vex, his sword held in a casual guard position. There was no hurry in his movements, no sense of urgency. He knew he’d won. This was just cleanup now.

But he’d made one mistake.

He’d assumed Velara was as finished as she looked.

The auctioneer had been playing up her injuries, letting Cole think she was more badly hurt than she actually was. The thigh wound was real and painful, but it hadn’t hit any major arteries. She’d lost blood, but not enough to kill her.

And she’d been saving her strength for one final spell.

As Cole took his third step toward Madam Vex, Velara pressed both palms flat against the muddy ground and poured the last of her cultivation into the earth beneath the sergeant’s feet.

Not quicksand this time. Not stone spears or earthen walls. Something much simpler and much more deadly.

The ground opened up like a hungry mouth.

Cole had just enough time to look down in surprise before he plunged into the pit Velara had created. It was ten feet deep and narrow enough that his armored shoulders scraped against the sides.

But most importantly, the walls were lined with stone spikes that Velara had been growing beneath the surface for the past five minutes.

The sergeant hit the spikes with a wet crunch that echoed across the ruined garden. His scream of pain and fury shook the remaining windows in the distant mansion.

But Level 3 Earth Rank cultivation was hard to kill.

Cole was impaled in three places—shoulder, hip, and thigh—but none of the wounds were immediately fatal. His armor had deflected the worst of the damage, and his enhanced constitution kept him conscious despite the pain.

"You bitches!" he roared from the bottom of the pit. "I’ll tear your hearts out with my bare hands!"

Stone began to crack as his cultivation flared. The spikes holding him in place started to crumble under the pressure of his power. In a dozen seconds, or maybe two, he would break free.